


you're with me (not someone else)

by Adrianna99



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Miscommunication, NO SAD ENDINGS HERE I PROMISE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-12-20 18:23:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21061154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrianna99/pseuds/Adrianna99
Summary: Yuuri sniffled and wiped angrily at his eyes with his free hand, suddenly furious with himself.  “I understand,” he said, his voice thick.  “I understand if— you should leave, I mean— to get your own career back— wouldn’t want such a fuck up—““God, Yuuri,” Viktor said quietly, his voice filled with pain.  “I… I don’t want to leave as your coach.”“Viktor,” Yuuri said, his voice shaky.  “You should quit. You were right, I shouldn't be on the ice.  You should go back to your own career before it’s too late.”“Yuuri,” Viktor said firmly.  “Please listen to me, I don’t want to quit as your coach.  Maybe not ever, but especially not now.  Yuuri, you know I’m coaching you because you're incredibly talented, right?”“Yeah,” Yuuri laughed bitterly.  “So talented I smacked my head on the ice and injured myself on an easy jump.”[Yuuri falls on the quad flip.  He and Viktor end up kissing anyway]





	you're with me (not someone else)

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys this is like the least angsty angst bang ever whoops.... That being said, I do want to warn quickly that there is discussion/depiction of a major character **injury**, as well as a depiction of an anxiety attack.
> 
> I had the honor and privilege of working with the incredible [Kathe](https://mandolinearts.tumblr.com/), whose amazing art can be found [here!](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts/status/1188900762241454089)
> 
> Title from Lukas Graham's [Love Someone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dN44xpHjNxE), which for some reason always makes me think of victuuri.
> 
> Enjoy!

Yuuri woke up in a hospital bed, his head pounding. The room around him was dim, only a little light filtering in through the curtains of a window to his left and the lamps turned down low. 

Yuuri blinked, trying to reorient himself, trying to refocus. The hospital bed’s sheets were smooth against his arms, the pillow slightly too soft under his head, and there was a strange pressure around one of his hands. With a quiet groan he turned his head, and saw a shadow sitting in the chair next to him and holding his hand. 

Yuuri blinked again, and then said in a hoarse voice, “Viktor?” 

The figure sitting next to him stirred, fingers tightening around his. “Yuuri,” Viktor said, and _oh,_ his voice was almost as rough. 

Yuuri took a long inhale and closed his eyes again for just a moment, gathering himself and fighting back a sudden bout of nausea in the pit of his stomach. “Yuuri?” Viktor said again, and this time he sounded frantic. 

With effort, Yuuri opened his eyes again. Viktor was gazing worriedly down at him, his lips pursed and his brow furrowed. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his normally well-styled silver hair was disheveled and greasy. When Yuuri made eye contact, Viktor squeezed his fingers and said, “Yuuri, what do you remember?” 

Yuuri inhaled shakily and then slowly took stock of himself— his achy limbs and throbbing headache and tired eyes— and the dim room around him. “We’re… in a hospital?” he guessed, trying to fight the flickers of panic already poking holes in his sluggishness. “Viktor, what—” 

Viktor leaned in a little, cupped Yuuri’s face with his free hand. “It’s alright, Yuuri,” he said quietly. “You’re going to be fine, the doctor said so.” 

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut as slowly, painfully, memories trickled in. Yuuri on the ice, his free skate music swelling around him and his skates sure under his feet… catching sight of Viktor on the side of the rink, remembering what he had said in the garage as Yuuri cried… setting himself up, not for his planned jump, but for a quad flip… and then his blades slipping underneath him, his body tumbling in the way he had been taught with bruises and cuts would be painful, his head smacking into the ice— and then nothing. 

Yuuri’s eyes filled with tears, and panic flashed across Viktor’s face. “Yuuri, what’s the matter?” 

“I… I fell,” Yuuri said helplessly, his mouth sticky and dry. “On the— the quad flip, I fell.” 

“You remember,” Viktor breathed, looking oddly… relieved? He tenderly smoothed Yuuri’s hair off his forehead, and said, “The doctor said there was a risk that your memory might be a little… shaky. About the whole thing.” 

Humiliation and shame swelled in Yuuri’s chest. “No, I remember,” he whispered. He did, now, with painful clarity. He remembered the sharp bite of the ice into his side, the slick coolness against his cheek as he failed to get up, the gasps and cries of the crowd as his consciousness ebbed away—

Tears welled up in Yuuri’s eyes, spilling down his cheeks. Viktor looked shocked. “Yuuri, what’s wrong?” he asked. 

Embarrassment and anxiety gripped Yuuri’s chest like a vise, and he struggled to sit up. A wave of vertigo hit, and Yuuri clapped a hand to his mouth and fought back sudden nausea. Viktor looked frantic, his hands fluttering uselessly as Yuuri cried and did his best not to throw up or hyperventilate. 

Finally, Viktor put a hand on his shoulder and asked urgently, “Yuuri, what do you need? Are you going to throw up?” 

Yuuri shook his head even as he fought back another swell of sickness in his stomach, but he didn’t think he had eaten recently enough to have anything to throw up. Then again, he had no idea what time it was, or how long he had been unconscious. Yuuri struggled to take deep, shuddering breaths until he was a little bit calmer, and Viktor helped him lie back down. 

“I’m going to get you a cup of water,” Viktor said seriously, his brow pinched and his shoulders tense. “Don’t move around too much, OK?” Yuuri managed to nod and watched as Viktor stalked out, his hands shoved in his trench coat pockets. 

Yuuri turned his gaze to the dim ceiling and squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t be able to cry anymore. A few tears leaked through anyway, clumping his eyelashes and dripping into his ear. God, he had managed to fuck up so badly. Not only had he messed up Viktor’s signature jump and gotten himself injured, he couldn’t even be stone-faced about it! Viktor must be absolutely furious at him, he must be so humiliated— Yuuri had made him look like a horrible, incompetent coach who couldn’t even get his student to listen to him— and since Yuuri hadn’t won the competition, since he had been stupid and cocky and had tried to do more than he was capable of, Viktor probably would want to quit as his coach, reclaim what he could of his career before Yuuri ruined it all— 

By the time Viktor came back with a little plastic cup of water Yuuri was crying in earnest again and trying to muffle his sobs into his pillow. Viktor froze in the doorway and then rushed over. “Yuuri, what’s the matter?” he exclaimed, carelessly setting the cup on the floor and grabbing Yuuri’s hand. “What hurts?” 

Yuuri sniffled and wiped angrily at his eyes with his free hand, suddenly furious with himself. “I understand,” he said, his voice thick. “I understand if— you should leave, I mean— to get your own career back— wouldn’t want such a fuck up—“ 

“Yuuri,” Viktor breathed, the panic on his face melting into understanding. He slowly sank into the chair he had been occupying before, and offered Yuuri the cup of water. “Please take a drink,” he said softly. Yuuri took the cup with trembling fingers and managed to take a sip. If only he wasn’t such a pathetic, blubbering mess—

“God, Yuuri,” Viktor said quietly, his voice filled with pain. “I… I don’t want to leave as your coach. I’m so, so sorry I made you think that, all the things I said in the garage— I shouldn’t have said that, it was unnecessarily cruel, I hope I can earn your forgiveness one day—” 

“Viktor,” Yuuri interrupted, his voice shaky. “You should quit. You were right, I shouldn't be on the ice. You should go back to your own career before it’s too late.” 

“Yuuri,” Viktor said firmly. He shifted forward in his chair and wrapped both of his hands around Yuuri's one. “Please listen to me,” he said, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I don’t want to quit as your coach. Maybe not ever, but especially not now. Yuuri, I… these last few months, training with you and getting to know you… they’ve been some of the best months of my life. I truly mean that. You make me, make me feel like… like I can— Anyway. Yuuri, you know I’m coaching you because you're incredibly talented, right?” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri laughed bitterly. “So talented I smacked my head on the ice and injured myself on an easy jump.” 

Viktor scoffed. “_Easy jump,_" he said. “Yuuri, if it was easy, it wouldn't be my signature.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a slightly sheepish smile. “Oh, that sounded so conceited.” 

He sighed, shook his head, dipped his chin forward so his bangs fell over his eyes. “Yuuri, I wanted to coach you because I was— and still am— so captured by the way you skate. You tell stories with the movements of your body, you create music, and that's not something any skater can do. Not by a long shot. What happened today was a… a mistake. But it’s not the end of everything.” He looked up, his eyes gentle. “The doctor said you might be able to skate at Worlds, if you wanted.” 

“If I even qualified,” Yuuri said hollowly. 

Viktor gave him a fierce, determined look. “You will,” he said certainly, and then his expression softened just a little. “Will you… will you let me help you?” He swallowed hard, suddenly looking a little afraid. “I know you said I should quit, and that’s the last thing in the world I want to do, but if you... if you want me gone, if you really do, I’ll leave. I won’t… impose myself on you.” 

Yuuri’s fingers clenched tightly around Viktor’s. “I… I want you to stay,” he whispered. “I’m— I’m selfish, but I want you to stay.” 

Viktor gave him a shaky smile. “I’m so glad.” His thumb gently stroked over the back of Yuuri’s hand. 

“Are you mad at me?” Yuuri blurted, and then clamped his mouth shut before he could ask any more stupid questions. 

Viktor looked surprised. “What?” 

Yuuri exhaled slowly and leaned his head back, his headache flaring. "You seemed… angry,” he said. “Earlier. I know you said you don't want to... want to quit, but I would still understand if you were angry. At me. I did mess up your signature move, after all, that's got to be the worst thing a student can do to his coach. I’m… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

Viktor interrupted him before he could keep apologizing, maybe start crying again. “I'm not angry at you, Yuuri," he said almost urgently. He reached out, took the empty water cup from Yuuri's hand and put it on the floor. “Please look at me, zolotse,” he whispered, and Yuuri met his eyes with effort. Viktor took both of his hands. “I’m not angry at you,” he repeated, and then frustration flickered across his face. “I’m… I'm angry at myself.” 

Yuuri blinked. “Why?” 

Viktor’s fingers clenched around his, and this time he was the first one to break eye contact. “I was the one to push you,” he said softly. “If I hadn’t said what I said the garage, you wouldn’t have tried the quad flip. It's my fault you’re— you’re hurt— and I—” 

“Viktor,” Yuuri interrupted gently, something like love swelling in his chest. He saw, suddenly, _clearly_, what he had been missing. The tension in Viktor's shoulders wasn't anger, but self-recrimination. The fear in his eyes wasn't for his own career or reputation, it was for Yuuri's safety. 

"Viktor, it's not your fault," Yuuri said quietly. "If you— if you don't think it's my fault, it can't be your fault either. I don't blame you, please... please don't blame yourself." 

Viktor swallowed hard. His eyes were still fixed on their hands, resting on the scratchy blue fabric of the hospital bed's blanket. “Yuuri, you… you mean so much to me," he murmured. “So much, that I’m not sure how to even properly express it. I couldn’t bear it if you got hurt, if it… if it was my fault that you got hurt—” 

Yuuri took a deep breath, seized the courage that he had gathered earlier in preparation for his quad flip. Hopefully this time, it wouldn’t lead to such a… flop. He carefully lifted Viktor's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing his fingertips. “Viktor,” he said quietly. “I, um… I feel the same. You mean so much to me as a coach, as a friend, as… more. I don't want you to feel bad about this, it's... it's not your fault. I promise.” 

“Yuuri,” Viktor breathed. He scooted his chair closer, the metal scraping loudly on the floor, and they made eye contact before both laughing. “Less elegant than I'd imagined,” Viktor mumbled. He let go of Yuuri's hand for just a moment and dragged his chair closer before sitting again. He laced his fingers together with Yuuri’s, and then said in a tender, quiet voice, “Yuuri, I would like very much to kiss you now. I’d hoped to maybe do it after your skate, or after the medal ceremony, but—” 

"But that didn’t quite go as planned,” Yuuri finished with a small, regretful smile. He took a deep breath. “Viktor, I would very much like for you to kiss me.” 

Viktor smiled at him, sweet and small, and then leaned in and gave him the gentlest kiss on the lips. “We’ll probably have to wait until you're a little better before making out,” he whispered, his lips curving against Yuuri’s. Yuuri smiled back, and then reached up to grab his lapel and pull him in for another kiss. 

They would be alright, he knew— things hadn’t gone as planned, expected, not in any way. Yuuri was injured, and he’d have to recover. He and Viktor would have to properly talk about what they wanted from each other, both professionally and personally. They probably both had some apologies to issue and some miscommunications between them to clear up. 

But Viktor and Yuuri were going to be OK. 

**Author's Note:**

> Again, thanks so much to the lovely [Kathe](https://mandolinearts.tumblr.com/), her art is [here](https://twitter.com/mandolinearts/status/1188900762241454089)! It's been a wonderful time!
> 
> Thank you ever so much for reading! Feel free to comment or talk to me [here](https://iwritebetterthanispeak.tumblr.com/), and have a great day, dear reader!


End file.
